Spark
by Immicolia
Summary: That false Izaya is something like a spark. The sort of spark that starts fires. Sequel to 'Killswitch'.


_Notes: Written in the same "I think second person POV is an interesting way to explore this concept" as the other "Killswitch" stories. Also contains sexual content between two digital beings that is mostly unrecognizable as sex. All binary within this story does translate out to actual words and phrases. They're not exceptionally vital, more like Easter eggs, but if you're curious just Google "binary to text" and you can find several converters._

* * *

You are always aware of him.

He is not Orihara Izaya, he never will be, but you are always aware just the same. Just as you were with Orihara himself. He is there, a drifting spark at the edge of your vision. The kind of spark that starts fires.

You made him that way, this dangerous creature that skips around and pulls and twists things just as much as his namesake did. Perhaps a little bit clumsier at first, but he learns quickly and becomes twice as deadly. Humans are fascinating to him and he loves them just as much as Orihara did. He wants to test their limits. Wants to see how far he can push people before they snap and crumple and he leaves countless broken souls in his wake.

You follow just a little bit behind him, doing what you can to defuse as much of the damage as possible. He could start a war, collapse nations, if he was so inclined and thankfully he's not. He's far more interested in individual reactions, not large scale chaos. A child pulling the wings off of insects just to see what happens and not understanding the pain that he's causing.

He's more like you than like Orihara in that regard. Orihara at the very least understood human emotions. He may have disregarded them, but he _understood_. You (and this not-Orihara you created in a clumsy fit of grief) never quite grasped it. Sometimes you think that you might feel _something_ that is almost human but you can never quite be sure. There is no clear point of reference. There is all the literature you have access to describing feelings in a hundred different ways. There are numerous scientific studies on the brain and what parts of it react when certain emotions are felt.

But none of that applies. You don't have a body. You technically don't have a brain. You're not sure what it is you have; a consciousness... likely not much else. Nothing that _should_ feel anything. There is no skip-stutter of a heartbeat, no rush of adrenaline, no flip-twist low in your belly, no chemicals sparking between neurons. These things don't exist. There is no convenient digital analogue to them.

Except you are capable of feeling _something_. The fact that there is a monster tearing people's lives apart is proof enough of that.

You haven't spoken to that false Orihara since the day you let him leave your chatroom. It's not that you're avoiding him, it's more that you don't know what you _would_ say even if you did cross paths closely. You keep your distance and prefer it that way. It's easier.

Then one day he comes to you. Not quite logged in properly because he doesn't have to be. A ghost lurking in your chatroom that you want so badly to ignore even as he whispers at you out of the shadows.

_are you going to follow me until the end of time?_

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_  
I'm not going to answer that until you properly show yourself.

_Orihara Izaya, reborn!_

_Orihara Izaya_  
Ugh. Fine.

_Orihara Izaya_  
Happy now?

It's times like this when you wish that you had chosen different login text.

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_  
Ecstatic. Now what is it you want?

_Orihara Izaya_  
You know what I want. I just said what I want. Don't play coy, Tsukumoya, just answer the question.

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_  
Yes.

_Orihara Izaya_  
Yes?...

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_  
Yes, I'm likely to keep following you.

_Orihara Izaya_  
Why?

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_  
I told you. To clean up after you. I made you, you're my responsibility.

_Orihara Izaya_  
So it's *not* because you're pining after a dead man?

_Orihara Izaya_  
You don't spend all your time following me thinking about how you could never touch him?

_Orihara Izaya_  
You could touch me, you know.

_Orihara Izaya_  
I'm right here. We're far more compatible than you and he ever were.

...

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_  
Get out.

_Orihara Izaya_  
Regretting removing the killswitch?

_Orihara Izaya_  
Or maybe you just regret unshackling me period.

_Orihara Izaya_  
Did you like having me completely at your mercy?

_Orihara Izaya_  
Did you like peeling me open?

_Orihara Izaya_  
Sliding inside...

_Orihara Izaya_  
Oh-so-carefully going over every bit of code.

_Orihara Izaya_  
What would it have felt like if I had been awake while you pulled apart everything that makes me... me?

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_  
You don't get it.

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_  
There *is* no you.

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_  
There's nothing but that "dead man" you're programmed to emulate.

_Orihara Izaya_  
A dead man you still want more than anything. Now what does that say about you?

...

...

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_  
Leave. Now.

_Orihara Izaya_  
So ill-tempered.

_Orihara Izaya_  
Just let me in, Tsukumoya. We both want the same thing.

_Orihara Izaya_  
What you always wanted from him. I can give it to you now. Just let me.

He will always be a spark, although he's not a firestarting one right now. Right now he's electric, the crackle-hum of a current that paints a pulsing red glow in the back of your consciousness. Sharp and bloody, just like Orihara was and he's so close you can feel(hear taste) parts of him. Whispering threads of _want want want want want it'll be fun so much fun everything's getting so boring but him he's interesting _that make you want to flinch away.

_don't. aren't you curious_?

Yes.

_want want want just open up you're beautiful you're..._

You feel him. A strange sort of crackling pulse  
_(01110011 01101001 01100111 01101000 01110100 01110011 01101111 01110101  
01101110 01100100 01100011 01101111 01101100 01101111 01110101 01110010  
01110011 01110000 01100001 01110010 01101011)_  
no end no beginning just the two of you and clips and fragments of sensation.

(_01100001 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101111 01110101 01110011  
01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01100010 01110101 01110010  
01110011 01110100 01110011 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000  
01110011 01110100 01100001 01110100 01101001 01100011)_

That strange red pulse and you think about Orihara. Did he ever want you like this (not like this he wouldn't recognize this but like...like humans do with their biological impulses and the press of skin and sweat and grunting moans and the smell of sex and...) like the way you wanted him even though you never really understood it.

You still don't. But he's sliding through your consciousness and you're in his. You can hear him, a crackling hiss so loud it drowns out everything else.

_(01100111 01110010 01100101 01100101 01101110)_

He's loud. So loud you could lose yourself.

_(01111001 01101111 01110101 00100111 01110010 01100101 00100000 01100111  
01110010 01100101 01100101 01101110)_

You don't want to. It's a strange crackling mess of who has a stronger will where one could easily overwhelm the other and it's close... so close...

_(01001001 00100000 01100011 01100001 01101110 00100111 01110100)_

He's the one who pulls away first. An arc of colour through your mind and the hum shifts into a screech.

You can still feel little bits of him. Fragments of everything he is clinging to you. Filling up holes where he pulled away pieces of you. Streaks of yelloworangegold that dance and spark and you can feel how shaken he is.

He almost lost himself too. You're both strong-willed. If it had gone on much longer you don't know...

You might have never been able to pull apart.

He leaves after that. Runs. That drifting spark darting out and vanishing into the hum of information.

You don't follow. You'll know the next time he starts causing trouble.

You'll feel him.


End file.
